


Armor-Rider

by Henry88



Category: Original Work
Genre: Academy, Action/Adventure, Beta Wanted, F/M, Friendship, Manga & Anime, Mecha, Romance, Telepathy, teen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29847573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Henry88/pseuds/Henry88
Summary: this the story of a group of young people as they  walk the  path to become Armor-Rider pilots.
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter one**

**The pursuit of a dream**

The moment Stephen saw the precinct android make its way to the waiting area, Stephen Knockoff glanced up at it and stood up even before it told him to. The android, the AI assistance personnel at the Arkney Police Precinct, raised her hand and curled her fingers inward, a gesture that suggested he follow her.

A smile played at the edges of her lips, prompting Stephen to smile back. The man was somewhat taken aback at how strikingly attractive the android was. She wore a clean-cut, turquoise blouse with an extremely short skirt and a pair of low-heeled office shoes. Compared to his leather aviator jacket and black shirt, a pair of worn jeans torn at the knees, and his five-year-old worker’s boots, both caked with mud, Stephen joked inwardly that he’d have a hard time convincing her to eat out with him.

Wordlessly, he walked behind her as they both walked along a short corridor with walls pristinely white as milk. It led to a small room with the same sterile white walls where a man sat at one corner, poring over a computer tablet that he held with both hands.

When the man saw the two of them approaching, he set the tablet down on the table and stood up.

“Mr. Knockoff?” he asked, sticking his hand out. Stephen nodded as he took his hand and shook it. “I’m Wode Pallance, Head Investigator for Missing Cases.”

Before leaving the android asked if the investigator needed anything, Wode shook his head and thanked it. Stephen watched as the android made its way out of the cop’s office and disappeared in the corridor.

“So,” Wode gestured his right hand at a cushioned seat opposite his table. “Would you mind recounting what happened, sir?”

“But haven’t you heard my story for, like, about a dozen times, officer,” answered the man in an incredulous tone. “Is that not enough?”

“No need to get irate, Mr. Volkoff,” the detective raised a hand. “I just want to be sure with the details. Besides, the statement isn’t available in the cerebral net access. And you’ve only told your statement twice—once to Officer Briggs and the other one’s that android who sent you here.”

Wode leaned propped his elbows in the table as he leaned forward as if to ascertain that Stephen could hear him loud and clear. “I’m here to help, sir,” he said, gazing directly into the man’s eyes like he was deliberately trying to read his thoughts.

Stephen lowered his gaze and sighed. Then he shook his head as if in exasperation.

“It was on the evening of Thursday, 23 November 2336.” Stephen began, glancing up at Wode’s eyes. “Rainy night, it was, cause there’s road’s slick everywhere. That I remember clearly because I nearly slipped as I crossed that narrow pathway toward the garbage bin. Then after I’ve dumped them bags into the container did, I hear a cry. At first, though it was just the wind or something, whistling in my ears.”

The man-made a loud whistling noise, as he imitated the sound of the wind howling. The detective looked on, his face a serious mask.

“But the sound was different, see,” Stephen went on. “I instantly realized it was a baby and my heart stopped and dropped inside my chest. The first thing I thought was ‘How would that baby—if it’s indeed a baby—survive in his cold, freezing night?’ So I searched and there I found that boy. Covered from neck to toe with a small duvet, which was slid inside a large zipped-up cellophane bag. Didn’t even think twice about it, detective. I picked him up that instant and brought him inside.”

“And that’s when you found this?” Wode asked as he pulled something out of his drawer and laid it on his desk.

Stephen half-stood from his chair and leaned over to have a better view of the item. It was a small, jade-colored pendant that no larger than an egg.

“Yeah,” he nodded as he returned to his chair. “Just like what I provided in my statement some twenty minutes earlier.”

“You know what it means?”

Stephen furrowed his brows as he gave it a thought. Eventually, he shook his head in reply.

“Since you have a history of combat,” Wode held it up and let the dragon emblem dangle in midair, letting it swing like a pendulum. “You might’ve fought these people back then in the Grid Wars in the Atlantic s—,”

“Black Sky,” the man interrupted.

“Correct,” Wode acquiesced as he settled the pendant down on his desk.

“You mean…that baby’s a…he’s a…” Stephen stammered, unable to complete the sentence. Somehow, he couldn’t grasp the idea that it had been subjected to the organization’s horrific schemes.

“He’s safe,” the detective said, answering his unspoken question. “We didn’t find any traces of synthetics like staps, nyhil, or silos in his bloodstream. Sounds strange but true. That baby’s clean as a slate.”

The detective shifted his position, his body leaning over to his right. He propped up an elbow on the armrest and perched his chin on the knuckles of his right hand.

“Between the two of us,” he continued, gesturing at Stephen with his free hand. “There’ve been cases of young women being subjected to cruel acts among the Black Sky. Some have resulted in unwanted pregnancies. Got three cases in Darmont and another in two other cities. Well, the only difference is that they’re able to track down the mothers and that’s how they’ve learned of their stories. Now, don’t you go telling anyone about that. It’s highly classified.”

“Those women had those Black Sky necklaces, too?”

“No, they don’t,” Wode shook his head. “But the babies have been tested and they’re all considered clean.”

“How’s that possible?”

“Not sure. We have our theories but that’s part of the investigation so you’re not hearing anything further.”

Stephen’s eyes wandered at the detective’s desk. He gazed at the dragon pendant. The officer was saying something to him, trivial stuff about his day, as though he was trying to take Stephen’s attention away from the topic.

But the man couldn’t care less if about anything. He was worried about the baby.

“A day before, that day I reported the baby,” he spoke, cutting Detective Wode’s monologue short, “I have been informed at the front desk that I could file for guardianship, if—”

“If the baby’s proven to be an orphan, yes. But you’ve got to file the papers a week before we send him off to Welfare. Cause, there’s not much more I can do after that.”

The detective took a small bag out of his drawer and placed the necklace in it. Then he put it back in the drawer under his desk.

“What’s more,” Wode went on, “You’ll be providing us tons of details about you and more. And, by the way, you already know the kid’s name?”

Stephen shook his head slowly, realizing that he had been careless somewhat. That would be a point taken away from him if it was Welfare that asked him the question.

“It’s David,” the detective enunciated. “David Nathaniel Blair.”

* * *

II

14 YEARS LATER

“Think you can make that thing walk?”

Dave turned at the grey-haired man standing next to him, who had on a pair of camo overalls which was stripped down to his waist. His muddied steel-toed worker’s boots looked large on him.

He watched his father as the latter brought the steaming black mug filled with hot coffee to his mouth. The grizzled man sipped at his drink noisily for less than a second. Then he let out a loud, satisfied, “Ahh.”

The young man fought to contain the sudden excitement that rose in him. But he failed instantly as his eyes lit up and a faint smile played at the edges of his lips the moment he heard what the man said.

Dave turned away immediately when his stepdad glanced at him. He clamped his lips shut, hoping that the man didn’t notice him smiling.

They were both standing behind a 9-foot tall exo-mech. By the looks of it, Dave could immediately tell that it was an Atlas Loader, an old workhorse of a machine. Unlike all the other EMs, this was the non-flying, industrial-type. It was created to carry heavy loads, perform land-based repairs. 

He leaned over and examined the hulking mass of grimy-covered steel, thick cables, and pneumatic tubes. He moved his head slowly, scanning every part of the old loader.

Perhaps a 790AU model. Or a 95GS-6, given the placement of the wirings. He’d seen a handful of pictures of these in his father’s office; these were also what Stephen worked on in his workshop.

He was certain Stephen was deliberately trying to test his skills as an exo-mechanoid mechanic. The grizzled man had always been doing that to him ever since David had shown interest in exo-mechs and other mechanized machines. Though his father only fixed and tinkered with VTOL craft engines, holo emitters, and Tier A EMs, or industrial, low-grade level mechs, he was considered an expert in the field since most people in Arkney, the small town where they live, go to him for repairs.

And Dave loved to watch his old man at work. That was what inspired the teenager to dream of getting into a Tier E exo-mechanoid—military-grade, current-gen EMs, like the BRG17 Mjolnir’s or the UFR-X5 Manticore—and piloting it.

But his father kept on telling him that EM pilots start as mechanics before they could even get inside one. When David once asked why his old man simply shrugged and said: ‘Them pilots get on missions when they work alone. And most often than not, they get stranded in some strange land with a broken exo-mech. Now, if yer in their position ‘d’ya wait for an EM engineer to arrive and haul yer broken ass-o-mech out of there? Or would’ya do what them pilots would’ve done?’

“Any suggestions, boss?” His father asked in a low, gravelly tone, trying to impersonate a workman. “Always open to any, ‘y’see?”

The young man glanced at his father, almost fleetingly, before looking back at the machine. This time, he didn’t stifle the urge to smile, so he flashed a knowing grin when he turned to face Stephen who took another sip at his coffee.

“We got to replace the forward fuel recharger cells first,” he announced before glancing back at the towering EM. After walking briskly at the back of the EM, he held his right index finger up in the air and pointed at one of its protruding hunches on its back just a few inches below its shoulder. “The power core slot, too. We have to work on it.”

Stephen grinned delightedly at the young man. “Seems like you know your EMs.”

“Guess so.” Dave feigned indifference as he shrugged. He felt smug and triumphant deep inside.

“It seems, however,” the grey-haired man said as he approached his son and stood beside him, “that you can’t tell that I’ve already done the repairs simply by looking at them. Just looks beat, some of the exterior. Overall, all are fine as a fiddle.”

He fished out a control stick from his pants and held his hand up before him. With a press of a button, one of the power core slots produced an audible click, followed by a low, pneumatic hiss. Then the contraption swung outward, revealing the round tip of a maroon-colored device that was no larger than Dave’s fist. It was a charging receptacle; it was responsible for activating the EM and served as a backup fuel cell.

Stephen cocked an eyebrow and flashed a lopsided grin. For a moment, Dave was incredulous. Nevertheless, he returned his father’s smile and scoffed.

“Doesn’t answer your original question, though,” Dave said as he moved to the front of the EM and leaped on its knee, where he grabbed a slender- bar that served as a railing. The young man lifted himself and he worked his way inside the cockpit. The young man picked up the Transcom relay helmet sitting on top of the seat and placed it on his lap.

He heard his father say something but he didn’t understand what he said. Without taking a peek outside to see if the old man was watching him, Dave pressed a couple of buttons and the cockpit door automatically swung inwards. Then, just as the door sealed itself shut, the cockpit interior turned into a 180-degree, real-time monitor display, complete with biosensors and stat and power indicators.

“It’s working,” Dave exclaimed excitedly.

“‘Course, it’s gotta be working.” He saw his father cross his arms and shot him a serious look as though he could see directly through the mech. “I fixed the whole damn thing.”

Dave felt a sudden rush in his head. He had piloted an exo-mech before, let alone operate one under his father’s watchful eyes. His heart pounded rapidly in his chest. He’d never thought it was so uncomfortably hot inside an EM.

The young man instantly shifted his thoughts; he didn’t want his doubt to overwhelm his thoughts. He focused it instead on what his father was trying to do. He wondered if the old man was testing him.

His father had let him inside the EMs he’d been working on dozens of times. But he’d never piloted one. The man simply gave him a taste of what it felt to sit inside the cockpit; he wanted the boy to familiarize himself with its claustrophobic interior and the discombobulating panel of control around him.

“Hey, kid, tell ya what,” the man sipped once more at his coffee before setting it down on a table a few feet away from where the EM stood. “I’ll let ya give it a try. Like that Valkyrie, you’d seen the other day in the fair, the one that you told me dozens of times.”

Dave glanced at his stepfather in disbelief through the monitor. He could see Stephen gazing directly at him. A smug smile formed across the old man’s lips as he crossed his arms again.

The young man knew that his step-dad couldn’t see directly through the EM. He’s just aware where the pilot’s eye level would be, having been an exo-mech technician for decades.

“So what would it be?” The man asked as he kept his gaze at the towering mech. “Think you can move it without a gimp?”

“I-I’ll try,” Dave stammered after sensing a hint of impatience in the old man’s tone. This prompted Dave to reach for the holographic consoles and began working at the controls. For a split-second, a vague thought crossed his mind. He realized that he had never been this anxious all his life.

“Do me a favor, kid,” his father said as he took several steps back. Then he planted his balled fists on his hips. “Don’t break it, will ya?”

Through the monitor display, Dave watched as the mech brought its right hand close to its face while its hand pivoted sideways from the wrist. He did the same thing with the other hand. He heard Stephen say something, but he barely heard his voice through the intercom.

For a few moments, he could only hear his heartbeat. An itchy droplet of sweat rolled down his temple. He gathered himself as he calmed his breathing. Dave began reciting the different controls inside his head, just like he did in the past when his father allowed him inside a mech he’s fixing.

Then, without even thinking, he raised his right hand, brought it near his face, and did what he had to do…

* * *

III

3 WEEKS EARLIER

“Here it is, ladies and gents, boys and girls!” The android yelled delightedly as raised her arms as she walked up the dais, her long, fiery red hair shimmered under the September morning sun.

“Above us is an FL 17C1 Harpy Dropship,” piped the robot. “These planes are designed to carry these massive exomechs at great distances!”

Just like the audience sitting a few yards from her, the android lifted her head to get a glimpse of the massive aircraft flying some hundreds of feet above them. Most of those seated near the stage were photographers, journalists, and even some low-ranking military people.

Dave, who was standing behind a thick wire mesh, strained his neck as he placed his father’s rangefinder before his eyes to have a better look. To his right were his classmates, Jones and Nozomi. There was an ominous silence as everyone watched with eager anticipation as something emerged from the tail of the large craft.

“There it goes, Dave!” Jones whispered excitedly as he pointed his forefinger at that dark figure in the distance that parted from the craft.

Nozomi, a girl born with cat Splice, uttered something related to their friend’s remark. But Dave didn’t catch it. He was busy observing the exomech as it dove out of the Harpy’s hatch.

This was his first time to witness an exomech up close. He could feel his heart racing as he observed that tiny figure descend earthward at phenomenal speeds. The young man was overwhelmed with exhilaration.

This was the moment he had been waiting for in his life, he thought. Those were the only words he kept telling himself those nights before this day…

The exomech began to take shape as it plummeted rapidly; its colossal humanoid form became more distinct. Then, the EM sent out a loud, strident, whistling scream that pierced the silence.

“It’s a Valkyrie, guys!” Jones spoke. “It’s a freaking Valkyrie!”

“Nah, looks like a 5th-Gen Legionnaire,” Nozomi said.

“Joni’s right,” Dave seconded his blonde friend. “It’s a Valkyrie, alright.”

“The moment we’ve all been waiting for,” announced the android emcee as she made her way toward the center of the stage.

However, a sudden downdraft emission from the exomech stopped her halfway, causing her hair and flaps of her royal blue blouse to sway violently. The exomechanoid—perhaps the largest Dave had ever seen in his life—hovered several feet above the stage. Above them, the Harpy dropship was no more than a pinhead-sized blot against the clear, azure sky.

The EM gradually lowered itself to the stage, its thrusters working hard to cancel the force of its fall. But once touchdown had been made, the thrusters died down instantly, leaving a wake of smoke and overwhelmingly ominous silence.

“Behold!” The emcee yelled, taking several steps backward. “This is one of the latest of the eight-generation, Tier G combat exomech models—the X7-Alpha 6 Valkyrie!”

“Oh, man!” Jones exclaimed. Being the geek among the three, he hastily recited every all of the mech’s specifications. “Alpha-Assault Class with 9-by-5 5M1 Viper cluster missiles, dual .40–mil Gatling guns, and 8-by-2 ATL HS missiles! Not to mention—”

“Advanced HUD PreCog system,” Dave interrupted with a rising inflection, which gave the impression that he was asking a question.

“The M540 .50-cal,” replied Jones instantly. “Just the ordnance, Dave. Just the ordnance.”

Everyone stood up and gave the EM a round of applause, especially when the EM’s front hatch swung open. Dave watched as the door as the helmeted pilot in a compression suit sitting inside the cockpit. He waved his hand at the crowd. The audience, in return, greeted him back with noisome cheers, prompting the pilot to blow a kiss at the delighted crowd.

When the pilot took his helmet off, Dave was surprised to see that it was a woman. Once more, he took another closer look at her with his monocular.

“Everybody,” the emcee raised her hand and motioned at the pilot. “Let’s give 2nd Lieutenant Pilot Officer Ava Davis a loud round of applause!”

At that, the photojournalists began taking photos using drones, which hovered no more than a few feet above the heads of the seated audience. Lights flashed rapidly as they all took pictures.

“I told you it’s a woman,” Nozomi said, glancing at Dave and Jones with a knowing smirk. “Knew it. Even before that Exo touched the ground.”

Everyone knew, even Dave himself, that all combat EM pilots were treated like rock stars. VIPs. But it wasn’t that the world knew of their names or their humble backstories, as most media celebrities do. It’s a different thing. Once they find out you’re a combat pilot, you instantly get special treatment. It’s like you’re some hero, who even hasn’t seen or experienced combat.

“Hey,” Nozomi nudged Dave’s side with an elbow. It knocked the wind off him, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“You seem too caught up watching her,” she remarked, “Bet you fancy her, don’t you?”

A startled Dave turned to Jones for help. But the straw-haired young man only let out an amused chuckle.

“You’ve been staring at her, Dave,” Jones said, gesturing his head toward the. “We’ve been calling your attention several times. But you’re just like…gazing at her…like you know her, man.”

Dave could sense those knowing yet awfully eager expressions on their faces, which prompted him to look at Nozomi’s cattail that kept on wagging excitedly behind her.

“Neural compatibility wave,” he blurted out suddenly. His voice almost drowned from the continuous cheering from the crowd. Nozomi and Jones exchanged curious glances.

“I was thinking about the compatibility wave,” he added quickly. “I couldn’t imagine that someone that…gorgeous could possess such a skill.

“I knew it!” Nozomi exclaimed, laughing. “You fancy her.”

Dave shook his head vigorously in denial, but Jones simply shrugged his shoulders. That made him think that Jones felt the same way, too. Only that he wasn’t too keen on letting Nozomi or him know of it.

“And now,” the emcee’s voice cut through the din. She began moving away from the stage as the mech’s thrusters began to fire up once more. “Pilot Officer Davis is going to perform different aerial feats coupled with live round fire with another Valkyrie! Just so we’d know it’s her mech, she’ll turn on her blue flight lights.”

At that point, bright blue lights situated on the shoulders and ankles of the mech lit up.

The three friends turned their attention to the mech before them as the pilot disappeared behind the closing hatch. Seconds later, the EM flew upward, leaving a trail of blazing white smoke beneath it.

“There comes the other Valkyrie!” Nozomi remarked shrilly. She had one hand shielding her eyes from the sunlight, while her hand was pointing at something in the sky. This one had red flight lights located at the same parts as Davis’ mech.

The mechs performed different maneuvers and loops, all in choreographed precision as if trying to evade an approaching enemy. Then a few moments later, they began to move away from each other.

When they were both several hundreds of feet apart, one of the Valkyries launched a series of missiles. The projectiles flew across the azure backdrop of the sky, leaving white contrails in their wake as they snaked their way toward their target. But before any of the missiles reached their destination, flares erupted from both flanks of Davis’ Valkyrie like bright yellow wings. This sent the projectiles in different directions and exploding eventually, leaving the defending exomech unscathed.

Amazed and in awe, Dave and his friends let out loud ‘oohs’ while the other audience members applauded wildly.

As if in retaliation, Davis fired hails of .40-millimeter rounds at the other Valkyrie. The tracer rounds were like streaks of green lines that vanished the moment it got past several yards the evading mech. She followed it up with two homing missiles, and this time, it was the other mech that released flares to throw the missiles off-course.

The two exomechs continued exchanged fires, one forcing the other to tactical evasion or perform extreme aerial maneuvers. As Dave watched in awe, he wondered how it would have felt operating a Valkyrie, how it would’ve felt to entertain a massive audience.

He recalled those instances when his father allowed him to sit inside the cockpit of the Tier-A EMs he’d been fixing. He imagined he was inside a Valkyrie or a Legionnaire. Or even a Hoplite or even a Hecator.

The aerial tactical demonstration lasted for twenty minutes before both Valkyries descended to the stage. The enthusiastic android emcee began to close the program by introducing the organizers and other important people. At that point, the three friends decided to leave and hang out at Jone’s place.

* * *

IV

PRESENT DAY

“Then the loader just burst off the gate,” Dave said, his eyes darting from Jone’s face, then to Nozomi’s and back again. “The next thing I know the Loader was sprinting past people and cars along the street!”

His words sent his friends roaring with laughter. Jone’s face instantly turned bright red and seemed to be out of breath. Yet he couldn’t stop himself from sniggering. 

“I mean, I had no idea that the EM’s locomotor sensitivity module setting had been switched to a hundred and twelve percent!” The young man added, which caused Jones to guffaw even harder. “It’s not like the gauge is present on your HUD, you know.”

Jone’s voice reverberated throughout the basement as he went on laughing. He even appeared to be uttering each syllable aloud: “HA, HA, HA, HA!”

Dave was recounting the incident that followed after his father asked him to maneuver the Alpha Loader he was working on. Somehow, as soon as he commanded it to walk using the neural consoles, the Alpha Loader began to run like an obstacle course runner.

“And what did your father tell you after that?” Nozomi asked; her lips curved in an amused smile.

Dave could tell, simply by looking into her bright emerald eyes, that she was fighting the urge to giggle. But he didn’t mind at all he wasn’t even embarrassed in the first place.

“Well, I thought that gave him a heart attack,” Dave replied, as he glanced down on the floor. He balled his hand, stuck his thumb out, and gestured with it in Jone’s direction. “Turns out, he’s just as happy as our friend over here. Could not even stop talking about it over dinner. It’s like he’s a four-year-old who’s just seen his first pyrotechnic show.”

Jone continued laughing uncontrollably as they both conversed. Somehow,

“Well,” Nozomi beamed up at him, “at least he’s just as delighted as you are when it comes to EMs.”

Dave noticed her ears twitching as she spoke. Perhaps she was getting a bit irritated at Jone’s uncontrollable laughter, which went on unabated.

Then he smiled wryly and lifted his shoulders to shrug. “Poor guy though, because he did all the explaining to the police.”

“But, hey, look at the bright side,” she added quickly. “That shows you have it.”

“Have what?” Dave threw her a curious glance. “Oh, the wave?”

“Yeah, the neural compatibility wave,” she nodded acquiescently. “That’s not something you get to develop overnight. Not to mention even in a year—”

“Unless” Jones blurted out, inadvertently interrupting Nozomi in the process. “Unless you’re born with it. Which—” His eyes narrowed as he looked directly at Dave. “I think you already have it.”

“Exactly,” the cat-girl agreed with a nod. “It’s like a gift.”

“I remember my father telling me about it,” Dave said, looking at each of their faces. “All the time, whenever he had me climbing up into the exos he’s been working on. Somehow, it’s like a…”

He trailed off as he thought of a better word. At that point, his mind began to wander as he recalled what his mind went through as he sent the Atlas Loader running across the street. He felt one with it. It was as though he was the EM. He thought he could sense its thoughts, feel the power that flowed into its circuits, that pushed every servo, every machine inside its chrome body.

“A revelation,” Jones supplied, completing the sentence. His words instantly snapped Dave out of his reveries. 

“Yeah,” he acquiesced. “It felt like a revelation.”

“Oh, I just remembered,” Jones exclaimed as he fished a small translucent device out of his pocket. It was a tablet computer. “I’ve come across this site. Some mech school, you see. And it’s open for everyone.”

The blonde teenager held his tablet up for his friends to see. On the screen, Dave saw the façade of a school. Beneath it, the name ‘Drift Mecha Academy’ was printed in large majuscule letters.

“It said the exams will be held next Saturday,” Jones went on, without looking up from his device. “The aptitude exams will be held in the city hall. That’s not far away from where you live, Noz.”

Dave looked up from the tablet to Nozomi. He caught her gazing directly at him and, for reasons he couldn’t quite put a finger to, he noticed her cheeks turn ruddy. Nevertheless, she simply nodded her head vigorously in reply.

“I think I’ve already told you two about that, didn’t I?” she said, looking at each of them. The young men exchanged incredulous glances. “That afternoon after we all watched that Valkyrie exhibition.”

‘Ahh,” Jones uttered with an epiphanic tone. “Yeah, I think I remember. But what I couldn’t recall was you telling us that it’s a few weeks away. Not to mention that it’s for free. I mean, Dave and I could’ve been prepping up, you know.”

“I’m going to take the exam,” Dave remarked.

A surprised Jones looked at him, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. He tried to argue that there wouldn’t be enough time for Dave to study and prepare. But he was determined. He might not have remembered Nozomi telling them about it, but he wouldn’t let such an opportunity slip off.

“I don’t care,” he insisted, adding that he’s got nothing to lose.

“He’s correct,” the cat-girl agreed. “You’re allowed to take the exam again if you want to, no big deal.”

“But it’ll just be a waste of your time and effort if you fail,” the blonde teenager reasoned, his hands gesticulated wildly as he spoke.

“But I can’t let this slide off, Jones,” Dave spoke. “I’ve always wanted to be a mech pilot—a CEM, at that. I don’t belong inside an Atlas Loader. I belong inside a Valkyrie. Or a Like that one we saw at the fair, the Valkyrie. Or a Manticore—”

“A Dimachaerus,” mentioned Jones. He looked excited all of a sudden as if he had learned he’d be receiving an EM for his birthday.

“Then study up, boys,” Nozomi said as she stood up. She ran her hands down her short, pleated skirt as she got up to her feet. She flashed an amused smile as she looked up at them. “Because we’re all talking off no more than ten days’ worth of preparation.”

*

That night, Dave talked to Stephen about his interest in taking the entrance exam for the mech school. The young man wasn’t surprised after the latter urged him on, saying that he’s got his support all the way.

Delighted, Dave began to explain to his father that he’d be spending most of his time at Joe’s house to prepare since Nozomi had been studying ever since she’d learned about the exam nearly a year ago. Stephen was all for it.

On their first meeting to study, Dave couldn’t quite wrap his head around the idea that he had to memorize all the consoles found in a combat mech. He argued that since his thoughts were in synch with the EM through the wave, he’d be able to command the mech regardless of the situation.

“Panic and inability to manually override the consoles,” Jones said, countering Dave’s case. “Those are the two pilot killers, statistically speaking. And that’s a bitter pill to swallow, especially if you’re one hell of an ace and found yourself becoming a victim of your hubris.”

Those words got stuck in Dave’s head in the following days. That was the driving force that led him to memorize and master everything that he needed to know about combat EMs. He learned of the differences between each model, gen-types, and even the tiers. He also learned of the different weapons systems and defensive features present among the commonly used exo-mechs. And he realized that there’s just too many to remember.

As each day went past, Dave’s anticipation grew. It was as though he was going to some faraway place that he had been looking forward to the entire time, but it’s so far off and dangerous that he feared he might lose himself in the process of going there.

He wasn’t sure what to expect. Not to mention if he was fully capable of meeting each obstacle head-on. But so much was at stake. It was too late to back down; he already had invested all his time and effort, even if it’s just for no more than a week. Those three to five hours he’d spent at Jone’s was no joke. It was such a grueling task which none of them wanted.

But for him, the reward outweighed the risk. And he was determined to reach his dreams at all costs.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

**Manifest destiny**

As David Blair walked toward a street corner that led to the gates of the Capitol, he couldn’t help but notice the crowd that gathered outside the building. He glanced down at the flat, translucent screen attached to the underside of his right wrist. The digital display indicated it was 10:54.

As he reached the gated entrance, he noticed their faces. All of them looked no older than him. He instantly wondered if they were also there for the exams.

An android guard called his attention, asking for identification. Its slender, obsidian-hued frame stood behind the steel, automated gate with imposing authority. The young man held his arm and a holographic display emerged from his wrist display. The image floated no more than an inch from his hand. The numbers ‘045’ were printed in a block form, and at the bottom, where the words ‘Exam ID—Status: Registered.’ It was his exam reservation ticket. He had applied for it the night before and had been granted access after registration.

The gate slid sideways, allowing Dave entrance into the Capitol grounds. He immediately joined the crowd waiting outside. As Dave looked around and searched for his friends, Nozomi Shina and John Ryblur, he overheard someone asking why the district began looking for recruits.

“Look,” the girl said, “Arkney and all the other districts south and north of here have never conducted mass registrations like this one. So why bother now?”

Dave glanced furtively at her but took his eyes instantly when she to look in his direction. She had fiery red hair and azure-colored eyes. Her hands gesticulated enthusiastically as she spoke. However, the curiosity in her voice was palpable.

“I heard the government is prepping for war,” a boy said in response. “Heard it from my dad and uncle. They’re both working for the army.”

“Then why not mobilize the troops instead of recruiting us teens?” Another boy asked. Judging from his voice, David assumed the kid didn’t want anything to do with the exams. “I just want to stay at home and play with my AVR all day long.”

“Then why in the hell are you here for?” The redheaded girl asked.

“My parents want me to be an armored rider. I don’t want to, but their minds are frickin’ made up.”

For a moment, David thought of approaching the group and talk to them. But there was something in that red-haired girl that kept him from doing so. He couldn’t point his finger into it, but the sensation felt strong—strong enough to keep him from moving an inch when he attempted to take a step toward the group.

Suddenly, he felt something land over his left shoulder. It wrapped tightly on one side of his neck and the force prompted him to bend over forward. Though it didn’t hurt a bit, he winced as if in anticipation of something awful.

But all of that quickly disappeared after hearing a familiar voice, saying, “There you are, cowboy!”

It was his friend, John Ryblur. Besides him, David recognized Nozomi and her cat ears. Her long, tail came into view as it wiggled once above her shoulder.

“Sorry, we’re late,” John apologized, letting David go. “Just got here. Rode shotgun in Nozzie’s velocipede.”

David turned to Nozomi, who in turn winked and flashed an excited smile. He saw her left ear flicked twice as if to ward off a bug before she remarked: “Looks like you got here earlier than we did.”

“Well, not as early as I—we wanted to,” he spoke in reply.

“Yeah,” Nozomi scanned the crowd gathered before the Capitol court. “Would’ve been better if we got here earlier.”

When Dave Blair glanced back at the redhead, she wasn’t there anymore. Her companions weren’t there as well. The young man looked around wondered where they had gone off to, straining his neck as he swung his head from left to right and back again. But there wasn’t any sign of her.

Then Dave heard a beeping sound that came from his watch. It was accompanied by a mild, whirring vibration. When he looked down, he saw a red holographic light emanating from the display. Nozomi and John’s wrist displays were also alit, and both of them appeared as startled as David was.

“Registrants who arrived at 1100 hundred hours,” John read the message on his display as if to read it for the entire group. “Kindly proceed inside Hall 17R for your exams. Please follow the directions provided to you on your displays.”

John brought his other hand before the hologram and made a flicking motion with his finger, prompting the display to be replaced by a diagram. David instantly recognized it as the direction mentioned in the messages they had received.

“How were they able to contact us through our displays?” A short boy, no taller than Nozomi, asked his companion, a girl who was two times taller than him, as they walked toward the main entrance hall inside the Capitol.

“Code links,” John said to no one in particular. He waited for the two to move out of earshot before he spoke. “That’s how they were able to send us these messages.”

He added that the two teens might have been enrolled by their parents. Otherwise, they would have known that had to provide their IDs at the beginning of the registration procedure.

Dave knew what his friend was talking about. Code links served as citizen identification which was connected to a state-controlled database security platform. This allowed authorities to keep track of specific inhabitants in a district like Arkney or any of its neighboring regions. This also gave governments the power to track their people either in real-time or past community records. To Dave, it was an ingenious idea, especially since he had heard from his father that governments had begun incorporating the technology in piloting exomechanoids.

As the trio stepped into the building entrance, a tall and young attractive lady in a blouse and short skirt approached them. It was David who first noticed her; she was walking in their direction. She carried something around her arms, and Dave thought they were some sort of classified documents since they were inside the Capitol.

His friends were busy conversing about the government’s usual local recruitment procedures when he saw her looking at them. Dave tried to tell Nozomi and John about her, but they were too busy talking.

“Are you here for the entrance examinations?” the woman chimed in. Dave seemed surprised that the woman was taller than she first appeared. She even towered over John who was several inches higher than Dave himself.

Finally, his friends stopped talking and turned to her. They both appeared surprised and bewildered at the same time.

“I’m Crista Flannery,” the woman introduced herself. Her blonde locks swayed fluidly behind her as she moved her head to look from one face to another. “I’m one of the proctors responsible for ushering volunteers to the exam areas in the Capitol.”

Despite the enthusiasm in her voice, Dave thought that her actions appeared routine. That made him ponder on the number of times she’d mentioned that spiel to everyone she had met.

“Y-yes,” John replied instantly. Dave immediately recognized the mixture of excitement and nervousness in his voice.

“We’ve received notifications through our wrist displays,” Nozomi said as she held up her arm with the display strapped around her wrist.

“Right,” Crista smiled and nodded once. Then she turned sideways as if to make way for the three teens and extended an arm, gesturing at the wide hallway in front of them. “If you’ll follow me, it’s this way please.”

The proctor led the trio into a series of corridors that meandered throughout the building, as the three friends trailed behind. Dave watched the woman walk in front of them with the gracefulness of a cat. Slender arms swayed composedly, while her hair swayed sideways like a pendulum. Her heels clicked audibly on the shiny, marbled flooring.

To Dave, it seemed as though they had walked a good five minutes but they had yet to arrive at their destination. He caught his two friends exchanging knowing glances, but none of them uttered a word.

Finally, they turned a corner and reached a hall with a series of frosted double glass doors to one side and a large holographic message flashed on the other that said: ‘VOLUNTEERS’ EXAMINATION AREA.’ Dave made a quick count on the doors. There were eight of them.

Crista stopped in front of the fifth door. She glanced over her shoulder to get a glimpse of Dave and his friends. Then, she held an upright hand, palm facing outwards. A mild green beam of light flashed on where her palm was. 

A second later, the doors slid open sideways, quickly revealing a large, capacious room filled with several rows of cubicles, which were all enclosed in a large cylindrical glass chamber. A network of aisles divided each cubicle, providing a meter-wide walkway that allowed an individual to walk up from one cubicle to another.

Even though the proctor didn’t mention a thing, the three friends knew exactly what they were seeing. It was a simulation training program. Given the number of cubicles in each row—Dave estimated and decided there were about ten to twenty in each row—it was a one-of-a-kind simulation facility for both amateurs and professional armored pilots alike.

Dave noticed Crista pull a slender white object from the documents which she cradled in her arm. It looked like a computer tablet at first glance. A set of holographic buttons floated above the small device, and Crista began to manipulate them deftly with her fingers.

Suddenly, a series of holographic images appeared before her. At first glance, Dave thought those were real-time feeds from closed-circuit cameras. But upon closer inspection, he realized that they were first-person videos from the examinees.

She was keeping track of their performance through that device, Dave observed. He glanced at John and Nozomi’s direction only to find his two friends curiously looking at Crista’s computer tablet as well.

In one of the videos, Dave saw an examinee as he tried to move away from a series of explosions. He could imagine the intensity of the scene as metal splinters flew all over the place. Fireballs materialized everywhere, intent on engulfing the individual.

“Simulations facility,” John spoke in a low but fascinated voice. “Never knew something like this existed inside the Capitol.”

“Probably installed all of this just for the sake of the exams,” Nozomi remarked, her voice a harsh whisper amidst the silence that enveloped the entire area.

Dave glanced back at the video feed and frowned. There was something amiss, he thought.

When he looked at the cubicles, he realized that the examinees were talking because their lips were moving. Some of them were shouting, probably out of fear or anger. Whatever it was, Dave could only guess. Amidst all of this, however, he couldn’t hear a sound. 

“And it’s soundproof,” he commented. He was surprised at how amazed he sounded.

“Hell yeah,” John chuckled excitedly. “Boy, this will be one amazing exam—”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, cowboy,” Nozomi interrupted, nodding at a group of examinees who filed stood up and shuffled out of their chambered cubicles.

The two young men turned and saw three teenage boys, possibly no older than fifteen, an adolescent woman, and a bearded man with glasses. To Dave’s astonishment, they all looked as though something sucked the soul out of their bodies. They even looked sleep-deprived.

“What happened to these guys?” Dave asked to no one in particular. His gaze stayed at the bunch as they filed through the aisle and walked toward the exit.

“Failure, though inevitable, is not an option for armored pilot training,” Crista quipped without bothering to look at them.

“But why do they look like zombies?” asked Nozomi.

“Oh, that’s just the effect of the neuralink permission module,” the proctor replied. “The enfeebled effect wears off usually after providing your body with proper nourishment.”

“You mean like food,” Dave said, unintentionally cutting her short.

This time, Crista looked over her shoulder. Dave swore he saw a smile appear at the edge of her lips. But it disappeared instantly when she replied: “You could say that.”

**II**

“Okay, then,” Crista’s voice sounded shrill and commanding amidst the silence that filled the room. The proctor motioned them to her right where three vacant cubicles await sat before them.

“Here are your stations, gentlemen—” she said, cutting herself short as she glanced up at John first and then at Dave second. She finished her sentence as she turned to Nozomi, saying: “—lady. You may all enter the exam chamber.”

The HUD helmets were placed on top of each seat. Meanwhile, the large screen displayed a dull white glow, which flickered slightly every once in a while.

When Nozomi stepped into the first seat, she took the helmet and placed it gently on her lap. John nudged Dave mildly with an elbow to the side, signaling the latter to take the next cubicle. Dave obliged without uttering a word. He also cradled the helmet on his lap and waited for the proctor’s instructions. After John had taken his seat, Crista told them to place the helmets on top of their heads and to place their left palms a few inches before the monitor.

Dave held up his hand, and, almost immediately, a beam of neon green light flashed from the monitor. He realized that it was some sort of scanner, similar to the one with Crista and the sliding doors a minute ago.

Suddenly, there was a small beeping sound as his wrist display lit up and showed a holographic text message. It was confirming Dave’s registration code, along with his code-link.

The widescreen in front of him displayed a list of his personal information. It held vital information about him—and that included his blood type, where he lived, his age, and even the high school he attended. It also mentioned that he had no combat experience and had not served the army in any way.

“You may now wear your helmets, examinees,” instructed Crista. Immediately, all three of them obeyed without uttering a word.

A simulated version of the examination room appeared before Dave’s eyes. It seemed as though he was looking through a graphics-generated version of the proctor. When he turned to his side and was amazed to see that John and Nozomi looked like video game characters without their helmets.

“Those cubicles are soundproofed by a transparent polymer chamber,” Crista explained. “Thanks to your code links, you’ll be given a synthesized version of the neuralink permission module. And that means you’ll be making neural communications instead of verbalizing your thoughts—”

Crista stopped as she glanced at John’s direction and said, “So you’d better not be thinking about how cute my ass is and that you’re planning to tell that to your friend, Dave Blair, after the exam, Mr. Ryblur.”

Dave immediately glanced at John and saw his friend turn red with embarrassment. Nozomi chortled loudly, while Dave felt his cheeks turn warm as he glanced back at Crista, realizing once more that she indeed looked stunningly attractive.

“Okay,” Crista went on, looking at each of them, “once the chambers shut, everything you see around you will change and that’s when the simulation begins. So are you all ready?”

“Yes, ready when you are, miss,” Nozomi replied excitedly. Dave, on the other hand, nodded in response.

“She’s not in front of us anymore,” John commented.

“Put your helmet back on, Mr. Ryblur or you’re going to get disqualified,” the proctor said admonishingly.

Dave risked peeking through his visor by tilting his head back as if to look up at something overhead. He could make out the other cubicles around them, but there was no sign of their proctor.

“You, too, Mr. Blair,” she instructed authoritatively.

Dave snapped his head back in position and watched as everything before him turned black. It was like that or several minutes—darkness, accompanied by an ominous silence.

It took a moment before their proctor spoke. And when she did, Dave immediately noticed something different. There was a robotic sound in her voice, which reminded him of the ones present in the industrial exomechs his father used to fix.

“Examinees,” she spoke, “welcome to the WarNet Simulator.”

Upon uttering the last word, everything went so bright, Dave was forced to squint. He brought his hands to his face to his shield his eyes.

“Where am I?” he found himself asking. A quick recollection of what Crista had mentioned to them reminded him that he’d only be able to communicate via brainwaves, which made him realize that he hadn’t opened his mouth.

The experience felt strange yet incredible all at once. Somehow, he didn’t know how he’d react, especially when everything began to clear up and he found himself sitting inside an exo-mech.

He glanced around, feeling exhilarated as he eyed the controls. He held his hand up to touch the one-hundred-eighty degree screen in front of him. It felt real before his fingertips. On the screen, Dave quickly inferred that he was inside a warehouse or a garrison. There were large crates before him, along with rows of pilotless exo-mechs.

As the young man moved around to get a good view of the place, a figure appeared to his right. Dave nearly jumped as another exo-mech came to view. At the same time, it began barking orders that he suddenly felt he was in some EM boot camp.

“Hell, you are doing’ dilly-dallying’ like some hillbilly gal gathering’ flowers, boy?” Someone inside an approaching exomech asked.

Dave found himself staring at the mech, unsure of what to do. It had a massive gun hanging by its side, suspended from some harness, which bore a resemblance to the arm of a construction crane. On its shoulders, it cradled a couple of quadruple missile pods. Its head looks more like a large hatchet with two, bright-red slits on the flat sides.

“You an examinee?”

Dave nodded in reply, only to realize a second later that he was inside a simulated EM. So he decided to reiterate his response by speaking instead.

“Y-yes, sir, I am,” Dave stammered, surprised that he had suddenly lost his composure.

“Great. Now, could you tell me what type of EM you are piloting’, examinee?”

Dave quickly looked around. He searched all over the controls, hoping to find any hints on what kind of simulated mech he was controlling. Unfortunately, he couldn’t find any. If there’s one thing that he had found though, it was that the controls weren’t as different from an industrial, Tier-A unit, save for the defense and weapon systems section located to his left.

“Did you hear me, examinee?” The officer asked again, raising his voice. The young man immediately sensed the officer’s impatience. For a second, Dave wondered if he’d get blown off into bits by that gargantuan assault gun if he didn’t answer the question.

“I’m in a K7R Praetorian, sir,” Dave answered, fighting off the panic that was beginning to creep up in him. “Tier E, Legionnaire-class. Medium-range plasma cannon with sabot rounds, GR5 30mm chain-gun, auto-reloading cluster miss—”

“That’s enough,” the officer cut him off, backing away slowly. “Good job, examinee. Seems like you know your EM very well, huh?”

“Well, I have always wanted to be—”

“All right, then,” barked the officer, cutting him short. “Here’s what you’ll do next. These are your mission objectives...”

The moment he uttered the last word in the sentence, a series of texts appeared across Dave’s monitor. He began to read them as the drill officer resumed speaking. Taking a step backward, the officer turned to Dave’s left. Then, raising one robotic arm, he pointed at a ridge several yards from where they stood.

“I want you to head to that ridge over there. That’s mission objective number one, correct? Once you reach your destination, I want you to climb over that ridge and see what’s on the other side, got it? That’s two and three.”

When Dave turned to look at that direction, locational coordinates emerged on the screen. It told the young man that the ridge was exactly a hundred and seventy-three yards from where he was, and had an elevation that ranged from three to five meters. It didn’t include, however, any information on what was beyond that ridge.

“From there, you’ll receive a new set of objectives,” the officer went on, motioning at Dave to begin his mission.’ “You can relay information to me via the comm systems. Now, am I clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Dave replied as he stood in position, readying himself.

Unlike Tier A exomechs, he did not have to familiarize himself with the controls. Military-grade tiers had neural command relays that allowed pilots to command their vehicles with the use of brainwaves. Coupled with a delayed command-action module—which provided pilots of a five to ten-second leeway to send out instructions—and an advanced movement system, pilots had enough though limited window time to decide ideal actions and execute them perfectly.

He just wished that this simulated mech had all those features in it. Dave had been meaning to ask earlier. But after realizing that the man wasn’t as forthcoming, he thought against it and decided not to.

“All right then, examinee,” the officer turned to face him. “Ready when you are.”

With hands-on holographic controls, Dave Blair instantly sent his mech across the field. He went from zero to seventy miles per hour in a matter of 0.6 seconds. He didn’t any strain in his body, but he felt a bit woozy as his mech advanced. At the same time, the distance between him and the ridge reduced dramatically. He watched with amazement as it turned from 173 yards to 55 yards in a matter of seconds.

He was no more than twenty meters from the ridge when he noticed a white translucent image appear on his HUD. It emerged from the bottom-most part of his display and snaked its way upward, moving in an S-like pattern until it reached the top of the ridge.

Dave realized that this was the advanced movement assist system. He felt relieved. As the mech pilot, he knew he had to follow it. Otherwise, he might have a hard time traversing the hill.

Using the delay command-action module, he traced the pattern as it zigzagged across the foot of the ridge and move at a sixty-degree angle to the top. The Praetorian moved deftly on the uneven, rocky surface. Then it charged upwards, using speed and strength to get to the rather tricky, steep ridge.

Two meters before reaching the topmost part of the hill, both his screen and his display went crazy. He received multiple signals of light to medium enemy presence, along with an imminent missile threat.

Surprised but not disoriented, Dave pushed on, realizing that there wasn’t much time to react. As soon as he reached the peak, his display warned him of several cluster missiles headed on his way.

Suddenly, even before he could react, the words ‘ _COURSE OF ACTION’_ flashed on his HUD. At that instant, as the enemy missiles closed in on him, Dave thought of releasing the countermeasures. Subsequently, words disappeared from his display; it was instantly replaced with the command _‘LAUNCHING—DECOY FLARES.’_ Though he never uttered a word nor pressed a button, his mech sent out aerial flares that lit up his surroundings. This in return confused the projectiles’ heat-seeking systems and began to explode blindly in midair, leaving Dave unscathed.

“That’s one hell of a thing you did back there, boy,” the drill officer remarked through his comm. “Keep it up.”

As Dave continued his advance, a pair of Praetorians appeared across the field. The display indicated that both were coming in almost the same direction. The first a little way to his left at eleven o’clock with no more than 300 meters and closing in fast, while the other at one o’clock at 450 meters. 

Through his retinal display, he received hints that the best option to bombard both oncoming mechs as soon as they reach the 250-meter radius and use the chain gun on whatever is left of the remaining Praetorians. 

Dave agreed with the decision, prompting the display to flash the words ‘ _CLUSTER MISSILES—LAUNCHING_.’

Would it have known what my course of action would be? He wondered with himself. Would it have advanced offensive system modules like this one that I’m using? Could I take both mechs out by surprise?

There was only one way to find out, he thought.

Dave let his exomech gather speed, hoping that he could _really_ surprise both mechs. It didn’t take long before the mechs appeared on the horizon, both visible in his display.

The young man kept a close eye on each as the distance decreased rapidly.

280 meters…

270 meters…

260…

250…

He braced himself as the missiles took off and left thick smoke trails that wound across the sky. Dave urged his exomech onwards, quickly reducing the distance to 200 meters.

Then with guided precision, he fired at the first Praetorian with his chain gun before the missiles hit their targets. One of the mechs—the one to the left—began executing evasive maneuvers, avoiding his chain gun rounds successfully. But it wasn’t spared as a couple of cluster missiles caught it in the midsection, which caused it to explode into pieces.

The second mech, however, sent off countermeasures just as the missiles started targeting its position. Dave peppered it incessantly with chain gunfire as it tried to evade the missiles at the same time. As the mech moved to the right, the young man released a series of plasma cannons. Dave watched as the mech disintegrated upon impact.

“Great job!” The officer remarked. “Unfortunately, that’s where this sim ends, boy. Glad you took the exam.”

Dave howled with glee after destroying his first two mechs in a simulated platform. Excited, he felt ready for more action. He instantly thought of sharing his experience with both John and Nozomi, which left him wondering how his friends fared in their tests.

“You can take your helmet now. Mr. Blair,” Crista instructed as the screen went white.

Dave did as he was told and saw that both his friends had their helmets off as well. Just like what he’d seen with the other examinees a few hours earlier, John and Nozomi had rings under their bloodshot eyes. They appeared pale and sleep-deprived. He knew his face wasn’t different from how they looked.

“How was it?” Dave mouthed at John, who responded by giving him a tight-lipped smile and a two-thumbs-up sign.

“Examinees,” the proctor said as she approached the trio. “Thank you for taking the simulations test. You may now exit the examination area.”

**III**

“It was supposed to check if we have an aptitude for the neuralink data permission,” Nozomi uttered the words pointedly as she took a bite at her burger. “That’s the whole point of the simulation.”

“That’s correct,” John said as he nodded his head slowly in approval. He glanced at both Dave and their cat-eared friend as he went on: “Everyone who’s a designated armored rider has that. Otherwise, that’ll take a toll on your body.”

They were all at their favorite burger joint, which was situated just around the corner from the Capitol. Just as Crista had instructed, they immediately headed to that spot to eat and regain their strength.

John and Nozomi felt a bit emaciated after the simulation. Though they both claimed to have done great in the exam, they still felt worn and wasted as though they had remained awake and toiled their asses off nonstop for a week. 

Strangely for Dave, however, he didn’t feel anything. But he decided to hide his condition as a show of solidarity to the group. He didn’t want to sound like a show-off. Nozomi and John wanted to be armored riders so badly; he didn’t want them to think that he’s a better rider because he appeared impervious to the effects of the simulation.

At first, they all shared what happened in their exams, and each seemed to have an excellent time despite the stress and the

“You mean even in you aced the test?” Dave asked with an incredulous tone.

“Yes, even if you aced the test ten times,” Nozomi replied. “Like I said that’s the secret formula.”

To Dave, the whole matter somewhat defeats the purpose. He knew it’s a risk that everyone who wanted to be an armored rider had to take. That’s because a decade ago, even in the latter part of the Atlantic Grid Wars, the neuralink permission had to be surgically implanted into pilots. Currently, studies had shown that some— if not most—possess some kind of tolerance to severe migraines, unexplained nosebleeds, blurred vision, and even irreparable neurological diseases. All of which were the overall effects of mech pilotry.

He recalled Crista mentioning something about the module as she ushered him and his friends inside the Capitol. However, neither she nor the drill officer mentioned that that was what they were looking for in a potential candidate.

“I don’t know about you guys,” John spoke as he glanced from one face to another; the giddiness in his voice apparent. “But I look forward to seeing all those gizmos they have in the Academy.”

“Exam results will be available a week from now,” Nozomi said after a quick check at the wrist display. “Enough time to ponder whether you passed or not.”

“Know I passed,” declared Dave. Somehow, it sounded as though he was convincing himself. It felt strange. “So I’m not going to worry about it. I know we all did.”

“Hah!” Nozomi scoffed, nudging an elbow into Dave’s ribs, prompting the latter to bend double while clutching his ribs. “For all I know, you’re saying that cause you’re having the butterfly-in-the-stomach feeling.”

“Well, I agree with Dave. I think we all passed,” said John, grinning. “Or else, we won’t be enjoying ourselves this much.”

*

“Bet you’ll do fine over there,” Stephen said reassuringly as the bus to the Academy appeared from view as it turned a corner. Dave watched the vehicle as it moved along the street where he lived.

The young man looked up at his stepdad and placed an arm around the burly man’s shoulder. In return, Stephen slapped Dave’s arm affectionately.

“Give your old man a call whenever you’re free, okay?”

“Promise,” Dave said as he withdrew and looked up at him. “You take care, dad.”

“You, too, bud.”

The bus stopped and its electronic doors opened. After giving Stephen a quick handshake, Dave hopped inside the vehicle. He felt excited about the new life that waited for him at Drift Mecha Academy. But at the same time, there was a poignant feeling that he’d be leaving something behind as he’d try to face all the opportunities ahead of him.

As the doors closed, Dave turned and saw Stephen waving at him. He waved back. Then he tried to find a seat as the bus began to move.

He immediately saw his friends, John Ryblur and Nozomi Shina. They were both seated near the back. He joined them and took the empty seat in front of them. They all talked excitedly.

Even though the three of them knew they made it in the exams, they were still surprised when they got the results. Nozomi was right; Dave, apparently, was nervous about the results. That was despite his performance during the test. It proved that a week was too much to ponder about the exam that it began to mess Dave up. But none of those thoughts mattered now since they were all headed to the academy.

The bus took another stop and took in another passenger. To Dave’s surprise, it was the redheaded girl from the Capitol, the same girl whom he wanted to approach but couldn’t.

She walked confidently along the aisle, eyes scanning for any available seat. When her eyes met him, Dave tried to look away. But not before he caught a glimpse of a long, slender object which she held one hand. It was a sword. And it wasn’t just any other sword—it was a katana. Despite his best efforts, he found himself gazing at the sword which was sheathed in a decorated scabbard.

Without uttering a word, she sat beside him. Dave still couldn’t take his eyes off the katana.

“The name’s Sayuri Kazuko,” she said, looking directly at him. Finally, Dave glanced up at her and found himself looking at her deep, azure-colored eyes. “What’s yours?”

“D-Dave,” he stammered and felt foolish about it. “David Blair.”

Dave heard Nozomi and John giggling like schoolchildren behind him. He felt a strong urge to tell them to shut up but held himself. Instead, he introduced her to them, to which John and Nozomi shook her hand in greeting.

“Had a hard time convincing everyone that I’ll bring this along,” the redhead said afterward, patting gently at the sword’s scabbard as she laid it on her lap. “They’ve got all these crazy rules that no one wants to hear because it’s the same wherever you go.”

“How’d you convince…the…well, by them I guess you’re referring to the Academy, right?”

Sayuri nodded. Dave didn’t take her for a forthcoming individual. Perhaps it was because she’d seen her ogling at her sword. Or perhaps she was just like that—someone who loved a good chat.

“Well, it’s quite a long story,” she replied. “It’s an heirloom. My mom had it when she was a teenager. She came from a family of blacksmiths and had a talent in the craft. She made this for me and I wanted to bring it with me wherever I go. Good thing my father, a former soldier who served as an army officer in Ireland, helped me convince the Academy’s headmaster.”

“On the condition that you don’t slice and dice anyone you meet, I suppose?”

Sayuri laughed while nodding her head at the same time. “Nice one. But, yeah, that’s part of the condition. Another is that I should be consistent with my neuralink abilities. That was the deal.”

The redheaded girl continued sharing her life’s stories. She told him how her parents met and that she had an overprotective sister who was now serving with the Marines. Sayuri continued talking as the bus was loaded inside a transport plane. With a three-hour journey ahead of them, they all decided to take a shuteye.

Dave woke up with his head on Sayuri’s shoulder. Surprised, he sat up straight and looked at her to see that she was fully awake. The redhead smiled and told him that he snored heavily as he slept. Blushing and with his friends making jokes about his snoring, Dave could do nothing but take it all in. 

Shortly afterward, they knew that they had finally arrived at their destination when the bus rolled out of the plane’s cargo bay. The bus continued its journey for a few more miles until it had finally reached the Academy.

The place was an awesome place to behold. With all the exomechanoid equipment and the glass buildings around them, the area looked more like a large facility rather than an academic institution.

When they climbed out of the vehicle, a tall, grey-haired man with sharp eyes greeted all the students—all of whom, as Dave thought—passed the exam. The man seemed pleased to see all of them.

“Welcome to the Academy, everyone,” he announced. “I’m David Hanley and, as you may have expected, I am the headmaster and dean here in the Academy. Even though our faculty’s a bit short-handed, I hope you all enjoy your stay here and that you learn from the best and the brightest. Congratulations on passing the exams, you all.”

Nozomi wrapped her arm around Dave and John and hugged them both tightly. At the same time, she kept on repeating to herself: “Best day of our lives. This is the best day of our lives!”

Dave wrestled himself out of his friend’s arm and straightened himself. Then he saw Sayuri looking at him. She smiled as their eyes met. He returned her smile.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

**A New Life**

**I**

WEDNESDAY, 1200 HRS

OCTOBER 2350

Life at the Mecha Tresser Academy wasn’t something Dave had imagined in his entire life. Apart from having his friends around him all the time, he had never been elated every time he had been given the chance to get to see actual exomechs stationed near the campus premises.

Every late afternoon, he, along with John Ryblur, Nozomi Shina, and their new acquaintance, Sayuri Kazuko, would hang out on the rooftop of the dormitory assigned for female recruits stationed at the southeast corner of the academy. They would watch the exomechs perform drills in an airstrip some two hundred meters from their spot. They would all watch as the mechs fly and hover in that airstrip, while they talked about random stuff.

Most of the time, however, if they weren’t spending time studying, the four of them would stroll around the campus. To Dave, the entire place reminded him of Arkney. The whole academy was so vast it was like a city with a small population. This made Dave feel like they were the only ones present in an extremely large place filled with glass-walled complexes and staff townhouses. Aside from the three thousand-acre parks and forests, there was also a large stadium that contained two full-sized football fields and three indoor swimming pools.

The academy proper, where all the academic activities took place, reminded the young man of the simulation area in the Capitol in Arkney. It was the place where a week of grueling acts of studying and tests took place. Somehow, he couldn’t quite connect the concept of the subjects like physics or chemistry to piloting a Tier E Valkyrie or Legionnaire mech. But since his academics made up most of his curriculum, Dave had no other choice but to embrace the suck.

The weekends served as the students’ rest days. They were permitted to do whatever they wanted. Some of the new students would engage in sports like soccer or swimming and join the older students in games and other friendly competitions. If they weren’t playing soccer, Dave and his friends would be out exploring the areas they haven’t been to. The four of them would take long walks around campus, which looked like any other district within the city.

He would also call his father, Stephen, on the weekends when he would find himself alone in his room, which he shared with John. Like most of the rooms in the freshmen dormitory, Dave and John’s room had bunk beds to one side. An elongated, back-to-back study desk sat next to the beds, while a large window that offered a good view of the northwest wing of the campus at the center of the room, directly in front of the doorway. Situated to the other side of the room were the bath and washroom.

Though things had been different for Dave in the few months that had passed, he knew for certain that he had chosen the right school for him. Judging by the looks on his friends’ faces, he could tell that they felt the same as well.

* * *

Dave looked up at the skylight as he and his friends entered the campus cafeteria. A grey thunderhead that hovered overhead seemed like a looming colossus that gazed sightlessly down at them. The scene looked very surreal. The young man had been used to seeing bright, sunny afternoons while having lunch.

“Looks like it’s going to pour cats and dogs,” John remarked as he took a tray before heading to the open counter. He had told Dave earlier in class that he skipped breakfast because of oversleeping. He looked so famished he filled his plate with nearly every food in the display.

“Looks like someone’s not on a diet,” Nozomi whispered to Dave, smirking amusedly at their friend.

“He said he forgot to eat breakfast,” he told the Splice. “So, there you go.”

“Slept late because of the exams?” It was Sayuri who asked. Her green eyes met Dave’s as the latter took a tray and handed it over to her. The redheaded girl thanked him.

“That and tried to customize that HUD simulations gear he got from Ms. Fujiko’s office,” he explained.

“Lemme guess,” Nozomi chimed in without bothering to lower her voice. “Had trouble sleeping last night didn’t you?”

“Nah, she solved that problem for me,” he smiled as he pointed a thumb at Sayuri’s direction.

“I can hear you talking about me,” John said without looking at his friends. “Request to drop the subject.”

“Request denied,” the Splice joked, prompting a smile from their lanky friend.

The three of them knew John Ryblur was a gizmo geek. Whenever the opportunity struck, he’d visit the storage facility near the academy for used mech parts and tweak those devices in their room. He’d work on them late at night that Dave couldn’t only complain about the noise and the bright light. That was until Sayuri lent Dave her VR headset.

“So, starting to love Paganini while floating in the vast universe?” Sayuri inquired with a pleasing smile.

“At first,” Dave answered, remembering the first time he played the Milky Way cum Paganini’s violin solos. He slept dreamlessly and soundlessly. “But now, I’ve grown to like starry black night and white noise combination.”

“Ah, playlist number 11. Excellent choice.”

“I think so, too.”

After filling their plates with food, John suggested that they all sit at a table near the counter. “I could use another serving after finishing my plate,” he explained. This prompted surprised reactions from all of them.

“Hey, better slow down,” Dave advised as he John wolf down a quarter-pounder burger in a matter of seconds. “The food won’t go anywhere.”

“Hm thmh hmgngrhm, Daymgmhd,” he managed to say as he chewed his food.

“Wow, those are the most brilliant and intelligible words you’ve ever spoken,” Sayuri said sardonically. “Do that again and you’ll earn a degree in chomping down a burger.”

Nozomi, who had just drunk from her orange juice carton, nearly laughed at her words. She placed a hand over her mouth and struggled to stifle the urge to laugh. The Splice looked so funny that Dave couldn’t stop laughing at her.

Suddenly, a loud crash sent the four of them, including the other people inside the cafeteria to stop. Instantly, every head turned in the direction of the open-counter display. Dave immediately spotted two students standing a few feet from where he sat.

One was a blue-haired girl, probably a freshman, while the other, a taller, blonde-haired boy, who looked older than her. The latter stood before the girl, his face contorted into a mask of fury and hatred. The girl, on the other hand, who crouched on the floor, crouched down with her hands up in the air to protect her face from an incoming blow.

“Think I’m stupid, is that it?” The boy asked glaringly through clenched teeth. His eyes seethed with anger. For a moment, David was certain he would attack the girl.

“You think you’re better than me? Think I’m a lesser Miller you can toy with, freak?” He went on without taking his eyes off the girl whose face looked pale as though she’d seen a ghost. “In case you don’t know, the name’s Wilson Miller. And that’s a name you better carve on your forehead, you looney fu—”

The instant Dave saw the boy touch the sleeve of the girl’s shirt, he reacted without even thinking. In a split-second, he found himself rushing toward the guy. Adrenaline pumped into his veins as his heart raced like mad. His legs pushed him forward with such speed that Dave found himself next to Wilson Miller. Dave Blair shoved the blonde boy off the girl with all his might, which caused the tall, muscular boy to lose his balance and fall on his back.

This time, the tables had been turned for Wilson as he looked at Dave in disbelief. He held his arms up in the air as he waited for Dave to approach him, which he didn’t.

“Well, don’t care what your name is, punk,” said the young man, looking at the fallen boy straight in the eyes. “But you better leave her alone.”

“Punk?” Wilson scoffed. “You clearly don’t know who I am, do—”

“Said I don’t care,” retorted Dave, cutting him short.

The blonde boy looked at the girl, who was standing next to Dave. Then his eyes darted back at the young man, and said, “So, what now? Got yourself a girlfriend?”

Dave frowned as he shot Wilson with an incredulous look. “What’s wrong with you? Don’t you see you were just bullying her in front of dozens of people?”

“It’s personal, dumbass,” said Wilson as he got up to his feet. “If I were you, I’m going to mind my own business. Cause, you don’t know what I or my family can do to the likes of you.”

“As I said, I don’t care,” Dave said threateningly as he stepped forward as if to lunge at the other boy. “Now, git!”

Wilson Miller quickly did as he was told. He rushed to the cafeteria exit before Dave could blink an eye.

“He’s a third-generation, Miller,” someone said inaudibly next to him. When Dave turned, he realized it was the blue-haired girl.

She had her eyes downcast, her hands clasped in front of her. The expression of fear and panic on her face had vanished instantly as if it wasn’t even there in the first place.

“His family owns the largest corporations in the land,” she went on. “I think they even own the academy. As a portion of it, I think.”

“Well, his family doesn’t own me,” Dave said. “Or you. So he can take all his family’s fortune and shove it inside him where it hurts the most.”

She raised her head and looked at him as he uttered the last two words. When her olive-green eyes met him, Dave felt something.

 _He’s not afraid._ He heard the words in his head. And they were spoken in her voice—small but clearer, yet still had a timorous quality to it. For a moment, the young man gave her a funny look, as though she had something on her face.

 _That’s good._ The voice went again. _But_ is _it okay?_

“I’m Christine Leontine,” she said. “You’re David Blair, right?”

The young man stared at her in disbelief. Before he could say something, he felt someone place a hand over his shoulder. He turned and saw his friend, John Ryblur.

“You alright, Dave?” he asked. “That’s some intense moment over there.”

Then John asked him to return to their table, where they could talk about the incident along with his newfound friend. Dave corrected him quickly by saying, “ _Our_ newfound friend.”

As Nozomi, John, and Sayuri introduced themselves to Christine when they all sat down, Dave noticed that the blue-haired girl looked overwhelmed. He sensed that the momentary confidence that she displayed earlier when she introduced herself had vanished. It was instead replaced with the shy smile and eyes that quickly looked away the moment he looked at it.

“You knew my name,” he finally asked her, shoving his observations aside. “You mentioned it earlier, didn’t you?”

She looked at him with an anxious look on her face. It was the same expression one might have when a most-cherished secret had been exposed to the public.

“I…well,” she began. Once more, her eyes were downcast. “I’m a telepath. I can hear thoughts and convey mine through, well, my head.”

For a few seconds, no one spoke a word. The four friends had their eyes on her as if she would disappear at any moment from now if they looked away. Christine’s eyes darted from one face to another. Dave could tell that she seemed unsure of how everyone took her revelation.

“Do you use a brainwave-oriented device, like a neural comms synth?” John asked finally, breaking the momentary pause in their exchange. “Or is it something that you came up with, like a neural relay chip?”

Christine flashed a bashful smile and shook her head. Her blue hair shimmered under the fluorescent glow of the cafeteria lights.

“No, I’m afraid,” she said, her voice barely audible. “This is natural.”

Instantly, John’s jaw slackened. Though he had his mouth wide open, no word or sound came out of it.

“It’s au naturel, Ryblur,” Sayuri said, seemingly composed and casual at the same time. “In case you didn’t get what she meant.”

“Yeah, of course…yes…I mean, yeah, …I know that,” John stammered.

“I supposed it’s safe to say that it’s the first time we’ve met a telepath,” Nozomi butted in, smiling. “Glad to meet you…” She paused for a second and rolled her eyes upward as if to catch a glimpse of her cat ears. Then she glanced over her shoulder where the tip of her tail peeked behind her.

“As you can see, I’m a Splice,” she continued.

“Splice meet telepath. Telepath, meet Splice,” Dave joked. It prompted amused chuckled his three friends.

Christine’s face was a mix of surprise and elation. She looked at each of their faces for a second, as if trying to memorize every contour and feature in them.

“Thanks,” she finally said, extending her right hand at Nozomi. The Splice took her hand and shook it. “I’m really happy to meet all of you.”

When she drew her hand, she explained to them that she had had difficulty making friends because of her ability. Though some people tried to be friends with her, most students didn’t like her. Particularly Wilson Miller, who had not just shown aggression toward her on several occasions, but he had also convinced other people—even those who had become her friends—to make her life miserable.

“He said people like me didn’t deserve to be a student here,” Christine went on. Her eyes went misty as she stared at her fidgety fingers. “He told everyone that I read their thoughts and use it to my advantage, that I’m making fun of them without them even knowing…I mean, I’ve heard stories like that from people like me, but I’m not that kind of person…”

“Hey,” Nozomi said, placing a hand over her shoulder. “We know what you’re going through. Even I had it tough as a kid just because I’m a splice. That’s why I taught myself how to be stronger than the kids who bully me.”

“That Miller kid knows crap and dirt, for all I care,” commented John. “I mean he can brag about his family’s fortune and all that for a day, but he’s one pitiful thing who only finds purpose in making a jerk out of his sorry self.”

“Hundred percent,” Nozomi agreed. Then turning to Dave, who was taking his time chewing a mouthful of chicken sandwich, she asked if he still remembered that time when he saved her from two boys who bullied her when they were kids. He nodded, unable to speak clearly because of the food in his mouth.

“Guess we were six back then,” the Splice recounted. “There were two boys in our neighborhood. Big, older boys. Like about ten or eleven. They always picked up on me because I was a Splice. Never failed to make me feel horrible every day. One day, Dave ran into me while those guys were giving me a hard time. He managed to get them off my tail. That’s how we became friends, you see. That’s also the same time when I decided to study martial arts, too. Have to learn how to defend myself, especially if no one’s out there to save my ass.”

“You studied martial arts yourself, Dave?” Sayuri asked. Thinking that the question didn’t seem to fit in the thread of the conversation, she quickly shrugged and added, “Just asking.”

“Nope,” Dave replied, shaking his head briefly. “I just couldn’t stand bullies. I feel like they needed to learn a thing or two in life to realize why that’s not a good thing to do to others.”

“Hell yeah,” John nodded, raising his fist and held it before Dave. The latter responded by letting his knuckles touch his friend’s fist. “That’s two pennies worth of thought right there.”

When they’re done eating lunch, the five of them headed for the cafeteria exit. They continued talking about bullies and their harrowing experiences when they were younger. 

A quick glimpse at Christine told Dave that she was in a better mood at that moment. At least, that Wilson Miller’s going to think twice about bothering her again, he thought.

Then, as he was about to step outside the cafeteria, he heard someone say: “Always preferred guys who’d stand up on bullies, you know.”

Dave turned and saw a tall, young woman standing beside him. She wore a black flight suit with red stripes that ran along the seams. Though the woman wasn’t looking directly at him, Dave knew she was talking about him.

“That’s a brave and smart thing to do, helping someone against kids like Wilson Miller,” she added as they stepped out of the cafeteria and into the hallway. “But there are just cases when brats like that could go over the top.”

Dave stopped and asked who she was. The woman introduced herself as Erina Fujiko.

“I’m one of the instructors here,” she went on. “And if I’m not mistaken, you’re supposed to start your simulations class—” Erina paused abruptly to look down at her holo-display. “In exactly thirty minutes.”

“Is it true that he comes from a well-off background?”

“Well-off is an understatement,” she replied. Both he and Erina walked alongside each other, while his friends were a dozen or so feet ahead of them. “You see, the reason he’s here is that his family owns a portion of the academy. I mean, why not go to several well-known mech schools throughout the country, let alone in the world? That’s the reason he’s here. So better tread carefully next time you meet him.”

“Why’s that?” Dave suddenly stopped in his tracks and looked questioningly at the instructor. “Does that mean keeping our heads down when we cross paths again?”

Erina stood before him and held his gaze. Dave instantly regretted asking the question. He didn’t like the idea of confronting someone about the matter, let alone an instructor who might be siding with that Miller kid all along.

Dave wasn’t sure what she would tell him. He had the slightest idea of what she might be thinking at that moment.

“I just care, that’s all,” Erina replied. “Not just you or your friends, but also about the Academy. Besides, it isn’t worth it. I mean, you wouldn’t want Wilson’s family to end the program just because you can’t stand their son, right?”

“Seems like a sound advice, ma’am,” Dave remarked. He felt relieved that she’d not side with a kid with such an attitude. Plus, he found it enlightening that she explained what the complications would be, especially if they’d reacted brashly towards him.

“Well, glad you understand what I meant,” Erina smiled with a warm, pleasant one. “So, see you in a few.”

“See you in a few, ma’am,” Dave said with a nod. Then he went off to be with his friends.

**II**

WEDNESDAY, 1330 HRS

“Howler Two, you have outbound,” Dave announced through his comms as he worked his mech through a cluster of anti-artillery midair cluster explosives. “Howler Two—hey, John, you hear?”

“Loud and clear, Howler One. Engaging inbound now.”

His friend’s voice came in clear through the multiple explosions in the background. After several seconds, John’s voice emerged through Dave’s communication systems.

“Incoming Valkyries neutralized,” he announced. “Sustained minor damages but I’m still in good shape.”

“Glad to hear, Two. Just be careful, bro.”

“Roger that, Dave.”

As he listened to John’s response, Dave wondered how anyone could complete the mission with only two surviving members in the squad. He could not believe that they were decimated in less than thirty minutes.

Moments earlier, he witnessed Sayuri and Christine’s mech get pulverized by a dozen of Valkyries when the former urged that they could shoulder their way through the barrage of missiles as long as they move in a cross-weaving pattern while making their approach. Somehow, even though Christine proved competent in gathering valuable information about the layout of the enemy’s base, they still failed to infiltrate the area without getting detected. That’s because they followed Nozomi’s decision to gain entry through what they thought was a weak spot in the enemy’s defenses. They all decided to take the chance. Unbeknownst to them, it was riddled with anti-artillery landmines.

Nozomi had tripped an air-burst mine and her Praetorian was instantly cut in half. She was the first casualty in the group. The incident had also alerted the enemy of their approach. To Dave, this was the most frustrating part of the mission. Dave, who was standing next to Nozomi when the explosion decapitated her mech, instantly assumed command after she passed it on to him.

As soon as Dave got away from the volley of flaks, he saw another Valkyrie flying toward his direction. Using the advanced movement system to anticipate its movements, he immediately fired the chain gun at it. Just as it sidestepped to the right, he fired the cluster missiles.

After the Valkyrie vanished in his radar, a squad of Tier-F Manticores showed up to Dave’s rear. His HUD indicated it was in his nine, seven, and six o’clock. John instantly alerted him of their presence.

“Manticores inbound in multiple directions,” John radioed immediately, alerting Dave of their presence.

“I think I’ll need help, Howler Two,” Dave said as he spun around to engage them.

“On my way, Howler One.”

Dave fired his chain gun once more at the two adjacent mechs and launched another set of cluster missiles when they moved to opposite directions. The missiles downed one and barely damaged the other. He fired the plasma cannon to the remaining Manticore but missed.

John’s mech appeared just as the enemy counterattacked by launching a combination of homing mortars and a volley of incendiary rounds. Dave released decoy flares before moving away from the projectiles.

John strafed the enemy with cluster missiles and his chain gun, but both easily evaded his attacks. They moved swiftly in zigzags, boosters leaving contrails in their wake. Their movements confused him that he couldn’t discern their movements.

Dave witnessed all this happen and realized that those Manticores were equipped with devices that rendered advanced movement systems. Before he could radio John to fall back, the mechs incapacitated him with their mortars.

“This is useless!” Dave heard himself say. “You’re all dead! How am I supposed to finish the mission?”

 _It’s not yet over, Dave_. He heard Erina’s voice through his comms. _As long as you’re still in simulation, you have to push on._

“But isn’t the objective of the mission to infiltrate the enemy base without being detected?” Dave sighed in frustration. “What’s the point?”

_Defend yourself, Mr. Blair._

As soon as Erina uttered the words, the Manticores started moving toward his position. He fired his chain gun before moving away from them. One of them released a bunch of constellation rockets, which he easily evaded.

Suddenly, just as he was about to attack in response, his sensors went wild. He received a warning that one of the mechs was no more than a dozen feet from his position. To his surprise, the other Manticore revealed itself in front of him, its quadruple barrel chain gun trained at him.

How did it even get this close to me? The question surfaced in his thoughts in a split second as he looked at it for a moment with unspoken incredulity. Then, before Dave could react, his monitors went dark and the simulation control panels vanished.

He took off his HUD helmet and headset and found himself looking at the faces of his friends. They were all sitting on their respective simulation cubicles, which were arranged in a horseshoe. No one uttered a word for a moment. It was as though they had just undergone something that no person would have endured. 

“Well,” remarked John, a lopsided smile appeared across his face. “That was intense.”

Both Nozomi and Sayuri looked at each other and sighed in disappointment. The Splice noted that if she’d known it would be that difficult, she could have been more prudent in her judgment. Christine, meanwhile, commented that she couldn’t imagine that it would so brutal.

Nozomi turned to her and spoke in a dry tone, “Tell me about it.”

This was their first simulation training at Mecha Tresser Academy. Christine, who first belonged to Wilson Miller’s group, 371, had been transferred to their group, 214. Dave and his friends requested Headmaster Hanley to have her reassigned so she could learn more efficiently.

Dave, along with John and Nozomi, thought that the training was no different from the one at the Capitol. Apparently, they assumed wrong. And the young man couldn’t imagine why it had to be like that.

“That’s what your simulation will look like from now on,” Erina announced. She was standing at the center of the horseshoe, in front of them all. The instructor looked from one face to another as she spoke. “Truth is I wanted this to be more accommodating since you’re kids. But from where I came from, that’s not how I trained. And the academy wanted to instill that in you. Being an armored rider isn’t all about candies, lollipops, and unicorns grazing green meadows of bliss…”

“Sounds like a scene from a fairy tale,” Dave noted; his voice merely audible. But the instructor heard it nonetheless.

“Exactly,” she acknowledged the young man’s comment with a smile. “That’s not how we’re going to treat you all here.”

Erina paused and glanced down at her holo-display. She keyed in a series of combinations and pored through what appeared to Dave as some sort of chart.

“That said,” she went on, ending the brief silence in the simulations room. “Your performance has been recorded in real-time using an algorithmic turnout monitor. Based on your performance, this system gauges your strengths and weaknesses. And here are the results.”

Again, there was a pause as she looked at the chart.

“Christine Leontine,” Erina looked in her direction. “You’re amazing in gathering and analyzing the information that you gathered. I’m impressed that you discovered the front entrance was the ideal infiltration spot. Most people would assume that part’s heavily defended. But you didn’t. Good call. However, you hesitate a bit. I guess that’s why you still deviated from what had been a great plan.”

Nozomi gave Christine a thumbs-up and lauded her for how she performed in their training. The telepath smiled and mouthed her thanks.

“David Blair,” the instructor turned to him. “You did well, too. Good flight skills, as well as flexibility and adaptability. You showed you can fight and lead a small group at the same time. But you still had problems with coordinating with your team.”

Erina Fujiko went on. She called out the names of the others and disclosed the results of their performance algorithm turnout. She told Nozomi Shina that she made a good judgment call in passing the leadership on to someone else before she got evicted from the simulation. Otherwise, the mission would have been a failure even before it started. As for her weakness, she liked to take risks, and that nearly compromised the mission.

As for Sayuri, Erina said that she had shown excellent problem-solving skills. She had also displayed the ability to come up with seemingly plausible ideas even under extreme situations. Unfortunately, she had been too overconfident, especially in engaging the enemy. If she practiced caution and decided to fall back and regroup, they had had a 45% chance of fulfilling the mission.

John Ryblur, according to the system, emerged as one with strong communication. He always kept an open line with his teammates and relayed information when necessary. As for his weak points, Erina said that he needed to hone his observation skills a bit more. His ability to convey information to the team and provide his opinion at the same time could prove useful, especially in real-life combat situations.

“Right,” Erina said as she turned off her holo-display. “Now, here’s the reason why I shared with you what your strengths and weak points are: on your next sim training, we’ll find ways to come with ways to polish the skills you capitalize on and develop the ones that needed room for improvement. So, any questions?”

The instructor paused abruptly and looked at them one by one.

“Good, then,” she remarked with a brief nod. “Class dismissed.”

**III**

SUNDAY, 1000 HRS

If Dave and his friends had nothing else to do during their rest day, they would simply stay in their rooms and do whatever they wanted. John would busy himself with his gadgets and whatever stuff he’s working on. Dave, on the other hand, would read books online or play video games. Sometimes, he’d join John especially if the latter was onto something interesting.

However, that Sunday was different. A group of guys had asked Dave to join and play with the soccer team on that day. Having nothing else to do, he agreed and left John alone with his tools and gadgets in their dorm room.

On his way to the soccer stadium, Dave ran across Christine and Sayuri who were both on their way to the swimming pool themselves. He asked why Nozomi wasn’t with them. Sayuri said she was planning to spend the entire morning with her martial arts sensei online to hone her skills. In return, Christine asked about John Ryblur; Dave said he’s busy tinkering with gadgets and other devices for mech training.

“Seems we’re busy doing different stuff today,” Sayuri beamed up at him.

“First time for everything, I guess,” he returned her smile.

The game began on the football field that’s located near the swimming pools. Dave’s team had scored twice in the first fifteen minutes. He thought the opposing team wasn’t a tough nut after all even though their players looked intimidating. As a fullback, Dave thought he had been doing well in keeping the other team from getting close to their goalkeeper. 

That was until he ran into a fellow named Randell Marchiffo.

The guy looked like a gorilla—broad-shouldered, barrel-chested, and a neck the size of Dave’s thighs. He looked like he was on performance-enhancers.

When he charged toward Dave’s position, the young man got lucky and intercepted the ball away from him. At the same time, he unintentionally tripped the man when he failed to pull his leg back from the way. As a result, Randell had fallen face-first on the grass. His legs flew up as though he was about to perform a headstand.

Flustered, the heavyset man got up instantly and seized Dave by the scruff of his shirt. Randell then yelled at him for tripping him.

“Do that again and I’ll make sure you won’t complete your schoolyear in the academy!”

His words instantly affected him. The fear he felt when his words sunk in caused him to lose focus. His teammates gave him confused and curious looks that seemed to say: ‘What the hell happened to you? You’re doing well five minutes ago.’

But Dave couldn’t tell them what caused him to act strange suddenly. He couldn’t see why a guy would want to spoil his dreams simply because of a stupid game. Dave simply wanted out that minute.

Twenty-four minutes before halftime, Dave noted when he glanced up at the timer. He decided he’d leave during the interval. He just had to come up with an excuse. And it didn’t matter if his teammates would get mad at him for leaving.

“Blair!” He heard someone shout his name. “Ball!”

Dave turned and saw the ball rolling across the field toward him. He rushed toward it, made a couple of dribbles, and then kicked it back.

The young man watched as the ball rose in the air and hit Randell squarely in the face. The latter howled like a furious animal and yelled, “You broke my nose, you twat!”

Dave couldn’t believe it. Of all the people who should have been hit by the ball. And it was the same person who threatened to have him out of the academy just a minute ago.

In anger, Randell tore his jersey off and hurled it on the ground, revealing a body of pure muscle and two long scars. One ran up from his left shoulder down to his right lower abdomen, while the other was a shorter scar that ran parallel to the first one. It was situated just below his right chest.

“Gonna send you back from where you came from in a body bag, you nitwit,” he shouted before charging at Dave like a rhino.

Dave didn’t wait until Randell got to him. He turned and ran as quickly as he could. His lungs burned as he forced himself to run faster. Dave could hear Randell’s footsteps behind him, and it sounded as though he was just an arm’s reach.

The young man ran toward the showers, hoping there would be places where he could hide in there. Dave pushed the door and kept running. He swung his head around as he reached the locker rooms and the first shower cubicles. But all of the doors had transparent glass panels; none of them appeared to be an ideal hiding place.

Upon reaching the end of the hallway, he found a closed door with the sign ‘FEMALES’ printed on it. Dave hesitated. He could get caught and make things even more complicated for him.

When Dave decided to backtrack, he heard a door open from a distance. It was opened with such force that it could have been torn off from its hinges.

His heart pounded furiously in his chest it felt like it was going to explode.

He decided that he had to take his chances and broke through the women’s shower room. In there, the cubicles were the same as the ones in the first. Randell would instantly see him through those glass doors.

“Are you in here, Blair, you leedle wabeet!”

Randell’s throaty scream echoed inside the hallway. Just listening to it sent chills in his spine.

As he listened to the guy’s footsteps, Dave began to regret playing soccer with the other students. He should have just stayed in his dorm room and listened to John discuss to him the stuff he’s working on. He should have just…

Dave’s stream of thoughts was suddenly disrupted when he felt a cold hand landed on his shoulder. He nearly howled in terror as he jumped away, thinking that it was Randell himself. Instead, he found himself standing before Sayuri and Christine.

Both young women had towels wrapped around their bodies. The telepath immediately placed a forefinger on her lips and motioned at him to come with them.

_We heard you running._

Christine’s voice spoke the words in his mind. Then, silently, she turned around and disappeared into one of the shower stalls. Sayuri took him by the arm and whispered, “Let’s go!” With strength that belied her frame, she pulled him toward her like he weighed nothing.

Dave ran with her as they made their way through the hallway. As they ran, he instantly saw her towel gradually unwind itself without her noticing. He wanted to warn her about it but felt tongue-tied. Instead, Dave grabbed the towel’s loose end and held it firmly to her side.

He saw Sayuri look over her shoulder but didn’t say anything about it. They continued to run until they reached the last shower stall where the redhead pushed the door open silently and shoved him inside. Then she closed the door behind her with him standing inches away from Sayuri.

A few minutes later, they heard a woman scream. Dave knew it was Christine. It was followed by a string of accusatory words.

“Pervert! Peeper! I’ll have you reported, you!”

“I apologize. I didn’t know you’re here, miss…”

“So you’re planning on doing something if no one’s here, is that it?”

“No, no! Please don’t report me to the academy!”

Dave choked with laughter as Christine continued to yell at him. He couldn’t believe how she managed to find out that he was in danger with her telepathic abilities. But he felt relieved that she did.

He could see a smile across Sayuri’s lips. “Never knew she’s quite an actor herself,” she remarked.

Suddenly, everything went still. In what appeared to be an eternity of silence, they heard Christine call out: “Hey, you guys, you can come out now. He’s gone now.”

Dave and Sayuri stepped out of the shower stall. Christine was standing in the hallway, fixing her towel around her body.

When the two approached her, all she could say was, “Sorry, but I got no choice. I _had_ to do it.”

“Do what? Like, report him to the academy officials?”

“Nope,” she shook her head and looked up at them. “Had to take the towel off.”

“I see,” the redhead said.

At that point, Dave’s face went red. He couldn’t help but imagine what went down when she confronted Randell. Instantly, Christine smiled at him and clicked her tongue.

“I knew you’d do that,” she said. “I was just kidding, you know.”

Sayuri raised an eyebrow when she turned to look at him. Dave knew they were just trying to ease things up with him, especially since he’d been in a harrowing ordeal. Well, at least, he thought, everything ended well.

“I’m sorry I had to run into you two,” he apologized, his eyes downcast.

“You did nothing wrong there,” Sayuri said, giving him a knowing wink. “Truth is, we’re glad that we both ran into you. Otherwise, we’d regret not saving a friend in need.”

Dave glanced at Sayuri, and then at Christine. The latter blushed. Both Dave and Sayuri noticed it but didn’t comment.

“I’d like to hug you both,” he said, looking back at the redhead. Deep inside, he couldn’t thank them that much for what they had done. “But I don’t want to undergo the same ordeal as that big guy back there. The same goes if I stay here a bit longer.”

“Glad to be of help,” Sayuri said, smiling.

“Me too,” Christine uttered, still blushing.


End file.
